The State of Dreaming
by Browny Pink
Summary: "Evelyn." Despite everything he'd done, she still cared for him, wanted him at least. Maybe, just maybe, he would change for her. She had to hold on to that hope at least, didn't she? But as soon as she made her choice, she couldn't help but wonder just how she had ended up like this. DioxOC.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Okay, so I really should not be doing this, but whatever, I love this show too much to care. It's my favorite! And I've had the idea for a while. That said, the reason I should NOT be doing this is because this is all I have written so far (Don't worry, I do have the whole thing plotted), so updates might be sporadic like most of my stories. **_

_**Anywho though, what's done is done, and I can't help but be excited because again, I LOVE THIS SHOW! So Without further ado, here's the prologue.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the wonderful journey that is Jojo's Bizarre Adventures. This was made for entertainment purposes only with no intent on copy infringement.**_

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><p><em>I desire the things which will destroy me in the end. -Sylvia Plath<em>

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><p><strong>The State of Dreaming <strong>Prologue<strong>**

**~}(){~**

Evelyn stood frozen, her hands clutched to her breast, light green eyes wide despite her efforts to maintain an unaffected outward appearance. Clearly, she wasn't unaffected - far from it, and _he_ knew it too. She took shallow breaths, her heart beating loudly against her ears, and she was unsure if her state was due to her fear or, to her ever-increasing shame, _desire_. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two, she thought.

Despite everything he had done, she still cared for him, wanted him at the very least. If she were asked how or why, the young girl doubted she could explain. How could she when she scarcely understood it herself? By all means, she should've hated him like everyone else she knew, perhaps more so when one considered everything that had happened to date. It was the sane thing to do, but hate had never come easily to her. And over the years, she'd learned that nothing was ever sane when it concerned _him_.

His breath brushed against the back of her neck, and she supressed a flinch. He was closer than she'd thought. However, she still didn't turn around. A pang of sadness and longing hit her when she realized his breath was no longer warm and comforting as it had always been in her youth. Now, it felt as cold as a November eve in London.

"_Evelyn_," he drawled. His long pale fingers tucked a strand of long dark hair behind her ear, and he leaned even closer, his deep voice rumbling in her ear. "I thought you wanted to be with me always?"

More than anything. Ever since she was just a child, that was all she had wanted, and now, he was presenting it to her like a neat little present. She only feared that she would get tangled in the wrappings. He was making it so easy for her. All she had to do was make a simple choice - to choose him. The Lord knew she wanted to accept, but there were so many reasons to refuse.

But ... But maybe, just maybe, he would change for her. Or at least that's what the hopeful voice that had followed her throughout her life whispered. If Evelyn couldn't get through to him, then no one could. He would never turn himself in she knew. His pride wouldn't allow it, and she wouldn't either. They would kill him for all that he'd done, for what he'd become. However, the two could run away together and start a new life. Could she convince him to follow her? Would he even want to?

His hand landed on her shoulder and turned her to face him. They were standing so close he was almost pressed against her, his hair tickling her face. His scent enveloped her. He was all darkness and autumn spices and something she could only describe as utterly him. Now though, underlying it all, was the heavy, dizzying scent of iron. He was so different now, yet Evelyn also realized with some horror that he was exactly the same too. Perhaps more himself than he'd ever been before. And that scared her to the core.

As he brushed one hand along her arm, raising goosebumps along the skin, he tilted her chin upward, and she found herself trapped in hiss commanding gaze.

"I can give you everything," he promised, leaning impossibly closer, their noses brushing. His eyes ... He seemed so sincere, but Jonathan had mentioned ... No, this was different. He cared for her too. She knew he had to. Throughout it all, he hadn't tried to kill her too. He wasn't trying to kill her now.

It all came back to the question she kept asking herself. Would he change for her? Could he even? She had to try anyways, didn't she? Everyone else had given up on him. Everyone. But she had promised herself that she would never leave him, so how could she refuse?

She hoped Jonathan would forgive her.

With a nod so small it was almost imperceptible, she whispered, "Alright," against his cool lips.

She felt his smirk more than saw it, and another shudder racked her thin frame. Already, she almost regretted her decision. She had to wonder, how had it all come to this?

**~}(){~**

_To Be Continued_

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><p><strong><em>AN: Well, there it is. I knew this was bound to happen eventually, but I honestly hadn't planned on posting it for quite sometime. That, along with several other, Sylvia Plath quote got to me, and so here we are. I hope y'all liked it! _**

**_Let me know what you think!_**

**_Thanks for reading! I'll get the next installment out soon!_**

**_ONWARD!_**

**_-Alyssa_**


	2. Of Innocence

**_A/N: Here we go! The first OFFICIAL chapter. Since I've gathered you all here, I'll explain my goal with this whole thing. I'm trying to write this like a romance novel. That style of writing, level of description, and overall formatting. However, it IS a Jojo's Bizarre Adventure story at its core, so I want to keep it in the spirit of that anime as much as I can. I don't believe it's possible to %100 make it like Jojo's because a lot of the humor/magnificence comes from the visual aspect of the manga/anime. Anyways, that's my main focus on writing this. _**

**_Thanks so much to those that reviewed/favorited/followed! I wasn't expecting too many because I know there's not an outrageously large fanbase for this show (A shame, mind you.) So it meant a lot that it got a response at all._**

**_Lastly, ehem, please direct your eyes (if you're not on mobile that is) to the new cover art for the story. That said, I don't own it, but I thought it was a really good portrayal of the meaning and tone for this story, which will be expanded on later. Originally, I had planned to paint my own, but uh, Evelyn was being stupid and wouldn't let me draw her well enough to satisfy me. _**

**_Anywho. _**

**_ENJOY!_**

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><p><em>"It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look<br>upon what we think our present existence as a dream." Edgar Allen Poe_

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><p><strong>PART I: The State of Dreaming<strong>

**Chapter I: Of Innocence**

Scooting her candle closer to herself so she could better inspect her handy-work, a little girl with bright Champaign-colored eyes and black curly hair squinted in the dim light at the material she'd just stitched up, checking to make sure her seams were straight. A wide smile stretched across her face when she realized they finally were. Her Aunt Phoebe was right; she _was_ getting better.

Of course, it wasn't fit to sell in the shop by any means, but with a few more years of hard practice, maybe she could work for her aunt. Then her mother wouldn't have to work so hard all the time, and they could play together more often. A furrow worked into her brow. Mother always looked so sad these days - though Evelyn never mentioned it anymore, for the one time she did had made her mother break down into tears.

It was the sound of Aunt Phoebe's raised voice that roused her from her thoughts, and the young girl only tarried a moment to fold and put away her work before padding over to the door to see what the commotion was, her shoes clicking softly against the aged wood. Flicking her curls over her shoulder, Evelyn poked her head through the door to see her aunt arguing with her mother - again. They hadn't noticed her yet, but just as she began to run out to greet her mother, a scowl crossed her face, and she held up a hand to stop whatever tirade Aunt Phoebe had been about to begin.

"Well, I don't see why it's any of your business anyhow," Mother told her aunt, hands planting on her hips.

"Anastasia Crew, it's my _business_ because that little girl is just as much my niece as she is your daughter," Phoebe reprimanded.

They were talking about her again. Aunt Phoebe and Mother argued quite often about her, and it always made her feel guilty. A blush heated her cheeks. Honestly, she didn't mean to be such trouble or a source of upset between her aunt and mother. In truth, the young girl didn't understand what they were so upset about. Mother's job was unsavory, but necessary, which she'd had explained to Evelyn after a particularly messy fight with Phoebe. Every single time, these fights centered around money and Mother's job.

"I know you don't approve," Mother retorted, "but it's not like I have much of a choice any more. It was difficult enough living alone in London when all I had was myself to take care of. With a child and no husband, it's near impossible."

Phoebe threw her hands up in exasperation. "Then find a husband. You're still attractive enough - even if a bit old to wed."

The energy seemed to drain out of mother then, and a small rueful smile crossed her face. "You always speak as if it's so easy, Sister." She let out a bitter laugh that hurt Evelyn's heart. "With my ... occupation, any suitable husband would scorn me." She started to continue. However, just then she caught sight of Evelyn hiding in the doorway, and a warm smile tinged with relief tugged the corners of her mouth up. Mother tried to keep Evelyn around when Aunt Phoebe was feeling particularly abrasive because her presence seemed to calm the older woman. Or perhaps she thought Evelyn didn't know how much they fought, or over what. "Evelyn, dear, were you eavesdropping?"

Another blush touched her cheeks as she stepped into the room at her mother's beckoning and made her way to the two adults, standing in the store front. "Sorry, Mother," she mumbled, starring resolutely at the ground.

Her mother kneeled beside her and gently brushed soft fingertips against her cheek. "You really shouldn't, but I suppose it's alright this once." She paused, then continued in a mock-stern voice, "But only because I love you."

Evelyn giggled then and wrapped her arms around the dark-haired woman, burying her face into her shoulder. She inhaled the overpowering sweetness of her mother's perfume; it smelled like vanilla and honey to her, and she adored the scent, often asking if she could wear it too. However, Mother had refused because it was too expensive to buy it for the both of them, and she needed it to do her job properly.

Mother laughed softly as well, patting her back. Then she gently pulled her away and stood. "We need to leave, or we'll be late."

"Late for what?" Evelyn's brow furrowed.

Before Mother could answer, Aunt Phoebe cut in. "You really mean to take her _with_ you to ... _work_?"

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Again, yes, I must; I have no choice. Afterwards, it will be too dangerous for me to come fetch her, lest we get accosted by the unsavory men that roam the streets at night."

"But she's only ten years old. She shouldn't be around those things."

Evelyn stepped in front of her mother, a placating smile in place. "It's okay, Aunt Phoebe. I've been with Mother to work before. I don't mind it too terribly." That wasn't exactly truthful; she really preferred to avoid joining Mother on work outings, but she disliked the two sisters' fighting even more. Even though Evelyn didn't have any sisters, she didn't think they should stay mad at each other all the time. That wasn't what family was supposed to be like, she thought. Therefore, she always tried to play the peacemaker for the two.

"I know you don't, Sweetheart, but this just isn't something you need to be involved in at all."

Her mother blew out an exhausted sigh and carded her fingers through Evelyn's hair. To Phoebe, she said, "Believe me, I wish she wasn't too, but the world is a cruel place, full of cruel people. Not everybody has the luxury of living a charmed existence." A forlorn smile crossed her features. "It's nothing she hasn't heard before... At least it will be better in some ways tonight."

Phoebe scoffed. "How so?"

"For one," Mother listed, "we're not at our house, so she won't be in the very next room, and for two, he says he has a son she can stay with until after as long as she doesn't disrupt him too terribly."

Evelyn perked up at that last bit. More than anything in life, she loved meeting new people. Though there were many things she both did and did not like about living in London, her favorite was all the people. Each one was unique and had such neat stories too tell. If she could, she wanted to learn them all. The only thing was, she sometimes froze up in crowds. Being alone so often made the sheer number of people seem intimidating to her. One on one, she was outgoing and friendly, but in a crowd, she turned much more shy than she knew herself to be. It frustrated her to no end and made no sense when she thought about it for too long. Perhaps she could make a new friend tonight though. She smiled brightly at the thought.

The frown didn't entirely leave her features, but Phoebe's voice and scowl softened a smidge. "I won't ever condone what you do, but I can't exactly stop you either. If it wasn't for this girl though, I wouldn't even associ-"

"I know," Mother cut her off. Then more quietly, almost whispering, continued, "I know ... But now is not the time for that discussion." She glanced pointedly at Evelyn. "We can continue this on another day."

"Very well then," she said haughtily, crossing her arms under her bust. "I suppose you best be off."

Evelyn stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her aunt's waist, pressing her face against her abdomen. "Please don't be angry, Aunt Phoebe. Please," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." She wasn't sure what she was even apologizing for, but she felt like she should. In her short life, she'd caused so many fights, and the guilt picked at her.

Phoebe's hands drifted down to rest on her back. "Oh Sweetheart, you've done nothing wrong. I'm just upset at the world. Just know I'd take you in myself if Henry would only let me."

The young girl nodded agreeable though secretly she thought she didn't want to live somewhere without Mother. Aunt Phoebe had her husband and her shop, but who did Mother have beside her daughter? Mother definitely needed her more. However, she didn't reveal any of these thoughts. Instead, she simply offered a soft, "Goodnight."

"Let's leave," her mother urged, taking a hold of one of Evelyn's arms and pulling her out the door. With one last sad smile, Aunt Phoebe shut the door behind them.

**~}(2){~**

As they walked, Evelyn swung their joined hands back and forth, looking around their surroundings. The smell of cinder hung thickly in the air due to their proximity to the factory district, and Evelyn avoided the urge to wrinkle her nose since Mother told her such faces were unbecoming for a proper young lady. That was what she wanted most in life, she thought - to be a proper society lady. They always wore beautiful gowns and attended balls and dinners, and it sounded perfect. Nodding to herself, the young girl resolved to be one of those one day, no matter what it took.

"Mother," she began quietly, looking around in confusion. Rarely did they visit this section of the city. "Where are we going?"

"My client runs an inn in this area, and he-" she cut herself off, pointing to a building towards the end of the street. "Actually, that's it."

Apprehension filled Evelyn just then. Although the building didn't look particularly bad by any means, it wasn't exactly luxurious either. The two-story brick building with dark green shutters and matching door loomed over the street. No archway or steps led up to the door, so patrons stepped directly from street to lobby. Unfortunately, they were still close enough to the industrial portion of London that the scent laced the air - though Evelyn admitted to herself it was certainly more bearable here than it had been moments ago. Maybe she had simply grown accustomed to the scent though.

Stopping at the entrance, Mother pushed the heavy oak door inward, silently ushering Evelyn to go in first. She hesitated only a moment before stepping inside. Despite her uneasiness, she didn't want to be difficult when she scarcely had reason to. Besides, mother would always keep her safe. Immediately, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol overpowered the factory smoke from outside. Inside, Evelyn could see that the lobby acted as more of a bar than anything, and tonight it was filled with large, hairy men. Their swears, laughter, and singing melded together to create a cacophony that set her teeth on edge, and she desperately fought the urge to turn around and leave.

In all likelihood, they were wonderful people once you got to know them - much like her friend Mitch who owned the butcher shop - but the crowd, combined with the unfamiliar area and Aunt Phoebe's obvious distaste from earlier had made her more wary than normal.

Then her mother's cool hand pressed against her back, and Evelyn found herself wading further into the room. Setting her shoulders and lifting her chin, the young girl focused light brown eyes in the direction Mother was steering her, where they landed on an elder man with a hunched back and a white beard that laid across his chest. Wearing a crooked smile that Evelyn returned out of politeness rather than a want to do so, the man beckoned them over with a finger.

When they drew closer, the man addressed her mother, "Good. You're finally here." His tongue poked out and swept across his lower lip. "I was beginning to think you cut and ran."

Mother stepped in front of Evelyn, now standing between them, and ran her hand teasingly up his arm. Using a tone Evelyn only ever heard while she worked, Mother replied, "How could I when I had you waiting on me?" It was deeper than normal, breathy too, and it made the little girl distinctly uncomfortable - because she knew exactly what it meant.

Though Evelyn was young, she was not completely oblivious to her mother's occupation - in no small part to her upbringing. Throughout the years her and even herself had been called many foul names such as whore, slut, bitch, and the lot. At first, it deeply disturbed Evelyn, upsetting her to the point of tears, but Mother had sat with her one evening and explained why they said those things and why she should pay them no mind. Now, she could easily mask how much the remarks bothered her, and she found that if you repaid such ugliness with kindness, it was somewhat amusing to watch their reactions.

Still, being around Mother at work made her feel awkward. Especially at home when she had to hide in her room and read, and in her mother's words, ignore any and all noises from the other room. Mother was just so _not_ herself when she was working.

But there was no helping it, she supposed. Mother said it was her only way of making enough money to eat. She said that in life, everyone had to do things they didn't want to, and that it was okay to do things that others might consider wrong or bad if it was to help someone you loved. That was enough for Evelyn.

The older man sent a toothy grin at Mother and chuckled. "The bed's upstairs if you'll follow me."

"Of course," Mother agreed, brushing her hand across his chest. "But first ... I believe you mentioned a son for my daughter to stay with?"

"Eh?" Just then, he seemed to notice the girl standing awkwardly to side as she bunched up the fabric of her dress in her hands, a nervous habit she had. "It's just as well. The boy is upstairs too." He patted her head with his rough, calloused hands. "Pretty thing isn't she?" Evelyn sent the man a timid smile at the compliment. Perhaps he wasn't too bad after all. At least, he seemed to like her. Well, as much as a stranger could like anyone, she supposed.

"Ever since she was born," Mother agreed, though Evelyn detected traces of unease in her voice.

He licked his lips again. "Right this way," he said, taking Mother's arm in his own and tugging her up the stairs with Evelyn trailing behind as the commotion from the bar faded away.

There were no paintings on the walls upstairs, she noticed, the cream-colored walls left blank instead. It was quieter up her though so of the ruckus from downstairs drifted up. However, it was muted and indistinct. Luckily, the walls were thicker here than at her own home. If they were there, Evelyn had no doubt that it would be as though they never left downstairs. Every shout, curse, and chuckle would be as clear as a bell. At times, she wondered if the walls at home were made of paper.

Suddenly, the old man drew to a stop in front of a door midway down the hall. A brass set of keys jingled as he plucked them from his pocket. Pushing the door open, the man spoke over his shoulder, "Come on in, Madam." Then he turned to Evelyn. "Dio should be in the room at the end of the hall on the right. Understand?"

She nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Grinning, he patted her head again. "Manners too? It's good to teach kids respect," he told her mother. "That's what I do for Dio too."

"Enough about her," Mother deflected, clearly uncomfortable with her client's apparent interest in her daughter. "Tonight is for you and I, _Dario Brando_," she purred, tugging on his arm enticingly as she backed him into the room. They were laughing when mother nudged the door shut with her foot.

Frowning, Evelyn scrunched her face up and stuck her tongue out, then quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching. She sighed in relief when she saw no one was there to witness her moment of improperness.

_'Dio,'_ she repeated in her head. As she turned in the direction the old man, named Dario Brando, had explained his son would be. _'I wonder what he'll be like..'_ She assumed he was her age, but she couldn't be certain. However, she wouldn't find out any sooner by standing around, so she headed for the last room on the right, increasingly aware of the floor creaking underfoot despite her attempts to walk silently.

Moments later, the girl found herself standing in front of a heavy wooden door. Light shined through the crack at the bottom and spilled over the tips of her shoes. Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a bright smile and knocked.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Evelyn wondered if Mr. Brando had given her the wrong room in his ... haste. But then she heard it, a dull thud and then the shuffling of feet.

The door opened.

The boy who answered it was a little taller than her with bright blond hair. High cheek bones and sharp eyebrows framed the most unusual looking golden eyes she'd ever seen. His nose was long and straight, and his lips were neither full nor thin. At the moment, he was wearing a white button-down shirt with brown pants and dress shoes. _'He must take after his mother,'_ she thought. Because he scarcely resembled the man in the other room with her mother. A good thing, in her opinion.

He was frowning at her. "Who are you?"

Clasping her hands together to resist the urge to curl them into the folds of her dress as she was oft to do, the girl was quick to answer, lest he find her scrutiny rude. "My name is Evelyn Molly Crew. My mother is ..." She struggled to find the right words. "She's working for your father now."

Dio tilted his head to the side. "My father hired someone else to work at the inn?" he asked skeptically, arching one sharp brow at her.

Letting out a short laugh, she shook her head, a blush heating her cheeks as she tried to clarify for him. "Not exactly... Her, um, _job_ usually only takes an hour or so at a time."

Recognition dawned in his eyes then, and Evelyn's blush darkened as he turned his nose up at her. "She's a whore then?"

Evelyn resisted the urge to flinch before she gave a stiff nod. This was hardly the first time this had happened to her. Not in the least. However, she wouldn't let anyone know it got to her anymore. Keeping her face neutral, she said, "I suppose that is one of the names for it."

If he was impressed by her impassiveness to his earlier statement, he showed no sign of it. "That doesn't explain why _you_ are here though."

"Oh," she said, twisting the toe of her shoe against the floor. Honestly, she couldn't understand why she was so nervous all of a sudden. It felt very unlike her. "Your father told me I could stay with you during ... well, you know."

The blonde boy just rolled his eyes as he turned his back on her and walked away. He'd left the door ajar though, so she assumed that meant he would allow her presence. Carefully, she slipped through the cracked door and closed it behind her with a sharp click. Decorated much like the rest of the inn with wooden floors and plain walls, it was a fairly small room. A simple bed and nightstand sat in one corner of the room, and a desk and chair occupied the other. Soft light from a lantern cast warm shadows on the floor.

Dio had returned to the desk where he sat with a book splayed open in front of him. Stepping softly through the shadows, Evelyn made her way across the room and perched on the edge of the bed, careful to keep from disturbing the bedding. "Your name is Dio, yes?" she began, tucking a black curl behind her ear. He didn't answer though or give any sign that he had even heard her. Fidgeting in discomfort, she glanced at the book in front of him. "May I ask what it is you're reading?"

Again, no answer. He just turned a page.

Evelyn sighed through her nose. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she forced herself to maintain a serene expression. Why was he ignoring her? Was he just shy? No, she dismissed that immediately, thinking on their first and only exchange of the night. Did Mother's profession bother him so much? That seemed more likely, and sadly, this would not be the first time she'd lost a potential friend because of it either. Tapping a finger against her lower lip, the girl wondered how long it had been. Perhaps ten minutes? Regardless, it would be a while still. She knew from experience.

And it would feel a lot longer if she could only sit and stare the whole time.

She would give conversation one more go. "I've always loved reading," she told him, scooting closer to him on the bed. "Ever since I learned how, I've read every book I could get my hands on. I think the fables are my favorites. Well, some of them - not the ones with bad endings obviously." Evelyn giggled. "What are your favorite kind of books?"

After a moment, he turned his golden eyes on her, expression even. "Evelyn Crew ... "

"Yes?" she answered, hopeful. Perhaps he had just needed a bit of prodding.

"You talk too much."

At once, she deflated, unable to keep from sighing in disappointment. Tonight was going to be a long night after all.

**~}(){~**

Later that night, his door finally shut with a thump. A woman with long brown hair and similar features had finally come and fetched the girl who had disturbed his studies for the past hour. For whatever reason, she refused to take the hint that he did not wish to speak. If it had not been for his father, he would not have let her into his chambers at all. Disobeying him was out of the question for the time being. Dio had to play the perfect son.

Unfortunately, the hour was now very late, and Dio was growing weary. Honestly, it could've been considered improper to have a girl in his room at this hour, more so the daughter of a prostitute. However, there was no one to know any way, and Dio did not care much for the opinions of others.

The blonde boy stood and changed into his night-clothes before marking his place in his book and dimming the lantern. Then he lay down in bed on top of his blanket.

It was still warm from where the prostitute's daughter had sat for the entirety of her stay, and his thoughts turned towards the girl. He had ignored her quite thoroughly , yet she had persisted in her attempts to draw him into a conversation, the foolish girl. He found her persistence annoying. If he wished to befriend her, he would have done so. As it was, the daughter of a whore was of little use to him or his plans. Therefore, he had no need for her friendship or loyalty.

Likely, this night was the first and only time he ever saw her. Thank goodness for that. At least he would not have to endure her presence during one of the few times he was away from his wretched father.

It was with this peace of mind that he drifted into slumber.

**~}(){~**

_To Be Continued_

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><p><strong><em>AN: Whelp! Here is the official beginning to our tale. I hope you enjoyed it, and that I kept Dio (and Dario for that matter) in character. Dio is just such an awesome character, but he's also really hard to nail down for me because he's so ... well, evil. So I hope I did him justice._**

**_Let me know with a review! _**

**_Speaking of, big thanks to Blazingfire55 for reviewing. See! I told you it would only be a few days. _**

**_Hope y'all liked it! Hopefully see you soon!_**

**_ONWARD!_**

**_-Alyssa_**


	3. Rational Ill-Fancy

**_A/N: Alright! Here is the long awaited chapter 2. Sorry it took so long. I went on a month long hiatus for November due to Nanowrimo and was unable to get it out before hand because I hit a small block. But I'm back now with this. I hope you all like it, and I hope it's as good as the first parts have been._**

**_Anywho_**

**_ENJOY!_**

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><p><em>"To make a difference in someone's life, you don't have to be brilliant, rich, beautiful. You just have to care." - Mandy Hale<em>

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><p><strong>PART I: The State of Dreaming<strong>

**Chapter II: Rational Ill-Fancy**

Several weeks had passed, and each week, Mother visited Dario Brando. And each week, Evelyn was subjected to the frustrating creature that was Dio. _  
><em>

For the entirety of her stay each week, he would ignore her completely, even refusing to look in her direction. Of course, the first few times she had continued in her attempts at friendliness and at least tried to speak with him. However, she had finally given up on any hope of that. He didn't like her one bit; that much was clear.

She just didn't understand - because she _knew_ he could be cordial. Whenever her mother and, on occasion, Mr. Brando came to fetch her, he would speak to them politely when spoken to. That was all Evelyn had ever asked for in return, yet he refused her. Why was he so rude to her only? Perhaps he thought her a child - which she was - and beneath him - which she was most certainly was _not_. Truly, they were nearly the same age. He had no right to snub her as he had been. However, despite her feelings on the matter and his own behavior towards her, Evelyn refused to stoop down to his level and had been acting as politely as ever towards him. If he thought himself so high and mighty - which she really thought he did - then she would show him how much his countenance failed in bothering her. Besides, she was a proper lady, and proper ladies accepted such behavior with grace and gentleness.

That didn't make it any easier, however.

Oddly enough, Evelyn found she enjoyed Dario Brando's company much more than his son's. He was sleezy and a little unnerving, and whenever he was around, Evelyn got this odd sense of malice. But, the old man had taken a liking to her for some reason and always made it a point to speak with her - however briefly - when she visited. He would compliment her on one thing or another when she was around, and while it made her blush with the flattery, she could tell it scared her mother to no end. Really, it wasn't that she particularly liked the man; she just liked his son less.

Honestly, she wished she could've just avoided them both.

Regardless, that decision was out of her hands. Mother had to do what she had to, and Mother did quite a lot of unpleasant things. Who was Evelyn to complain about her lot in life? Obviously, she had exactly no right. There would always be those that were better off and those worse off. Evelyn thought her life fell across a happy medium.

When she realized that someone was waving a hand in front of her face, Evelyn gave a start, her hand flying to her chest as she yelped. The person who had startled her was none other than her best friend Millicent.

Millicent, who had insisted on being called Millie from the first day Evelyn met her, was a street rat, roughly five or six years older than herself. She had the most gorgeous red hair and rosy cheeks that Evelyn envied quite a bit. However, the older girl didn't care for beauty and charm in the least, and as such, the copper tresses were kept short and uneven - Millie's handiwork no doubt. Truthfully, the girl played a boy more than a girl, preferring running around and causing mischief rather than wearing dresses and courting boys. In fact, Evelyn couldn't conjure a single memory of her friend in a dress, which baffled her entirely. For Evelyn had always been one to want pretty dresses and precious things.

"Are you even in there?" Millie asked, tapping on Evelyn's forehead. "It's been your turn for ages."

Evelyn glanced down at the chess board between them. Normally, she thoroughly invested herself in their matches as her friend was much more skilled than her at the game, and it took a lot of concentration to beat her - or come close for that matter. However, today, she couldn't seem to muster any enthusiasm for it. Her thoughts were occupied by her problem with a certain blonde-haired boy.

A breeze rolled in through the open window of her mother's tiny house and tousled Evelyn's hair, blowing it into her face. Since it was mid-summer, the feeling was rather nice, and with the window open, she could hear the comforting bustle of the city - footsteps of passerbyers, an occasional stray dog or cat, and the laughter of a group of children playing some game or another of their own up the street, simply enjoying the nice weather.

Tucking a thick strand of hair behind her ear, Evelyn finally picked up one of her bishops and slid it across the board. "Sorry. My mind's been a bit busy lately," she mumbled, forcing herself to concentrate on the board and ignore her wandering mind. Millie always told her that, in chess, her problem was never thinking ahead. You had to plan both your and your opponents moves ahead of time and react accordingly. In truth, Evelyn wasn't quite sure how to do that. However, she always told Millie that she was working on it if only to please her.

"Well obviously," her friend scoffed, taking her bishop out with a rook that Evelyn had failed to account for. "Well?"

"Well what?" Evelyn frowned at the board. There weren't many of her pieces left. Oh! One of her knights was open. A smile lifting the corners of her mouth, she firmly moved her piece into place, pulling the other off and setting it beside the - admittedly few - pieces she had already taken.

"What's his name?" Millie clarified with a smirk, and Evelyn's mouth gaped open and shut a few times. Millie raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.

Hastily shaking her head, a blush rose to her cheeks. "He is a boy, but it's not like you're thinking."

"And how, exactly, am I thinking?" she asked, her smirk widening and tone turning smug. Honestly, her satisfaction was practically tangible.

Averting her eyes, Evelyn toyed with the folds of her pale pink dress. "You're thinking that I _like him_ like him, and that's about as far from the truth as you can get." Though she knew Dio was rather handsome what with his gold eyes and lovely hair, he was always so rude to her. Even if she _did_ care for him like that, she doubted he would pay her the time of day for it. She couldn't even foresee them becoming friends, much less romantically entwined.

Her friend laughed again, sliding her rook over. "As you say," she conceded. "Oh, and your king's in check."

Evelyn bit her lip, so _that_ was why she'd been keeping her piece back. Always a step ahead. Face a little petulant as she wished to sulk, she moved her bishop in front of the king. Millie was the only one Evelyn allowed to see her true emotions on everything. Partly because they were such good friends, but mostly because Millie would be offended if she didn't. The other girl didn't care a single bit for high society and always seemed to know when Evelyn was masking her real emotions. Perhaps it was just because she was so much older than her.

"Anywho," Millie went on, "what's the boy 'that you don't _like_ like' named?"

Hesitantly, she looked up at her friend, studying her face for any signs of mockery or ill-intent. However, Millie's features were neautral, and Evelyn could never tell when she was lying anyways. A perk of living on the streets, her friend always said. A resigned sigh found its way from her lips. Really, she would just end up telling her eventually, and it wasn't as if she had anything to hide even. She just knew that Millie would make mountains from mole-hills.

"His name is Dio Brando," she revealed quietly, keeping her tone casual and choosing to watch the board instead of her friend's reaction, waiting for her to laugh loudly.

However, her friend didn't say anything or laugh at all. After a long moment, Evelyn glanced up, confused, and Millie's expression startled her. Her lips were pulled into a tight line, and her eyes were wide, any traces of lingering mirth missing. She reached across the board and grasped Evelyn's hands, her skin like ice. "Brando was his surname, you're sure?" she asked.

Bewildered by her change in demeanor and more than a little nervous, she was only able to nod in affirmation.

"Was his father's name Dario?"

She nodded again, a little frantic herself now. The chess board sat neglected between them. "Mr. Brando is nice to me," the dark-haired girl admitted quietly.

Seeming to gather herself somewhat, Millie took a calming breath and released Evelyn's hands. "Then you've been lucky so far," she said cryptically. "You should stay away from that family. I've heard bad things about Dario Brando and even seen a few things myself."

Evelyn shook her head and rubbed at her fingers where Millie had gripped them too tightly. "I can't. I have to go with Mother once a week. Besides, Mr. Brando is only ever kind to me - if a bit unsettling. It's Dio who is so rude."

"How so?" Millie indulged her though Evelyn knew she wanted to and would say more on the subject of Dario. It showed in the restless tap of her fingers against the solid wood of the table.

"The first time I met him, he called me the daughter of a whore and then insulted me for trying to be polite towards him. Every time since, he has refused to hold even a single conversation with me." She crossed her arms over her chest, lip pouting out. "I don't understand why he dislikes me so much. What have I ever done to him?"

Millicent rolled her eyes. "Not everyone is going to like you, Evelyn. Even if you're nice - perhaps especially if you're nice." At the crestfallen look on Evelyn's face, she continued, holding up a hand, "However, that doesn't mean you should stop trying," she indulged, tone slightly exasperated.

"I'm just not sure what to do anymore," she admitted, deflating as she leaned forward to rest her chin in her hands.

Millie frowned and then smoothed a stray curl back into place. "I'm not sure what you want_ me_ to do about it. Stop it with the kicked-puppy look." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, just keep you're chin up and keep being you. You always manage to worm your way into people's hearts eventually, so this should be no different - _if _ you must be around him at all. However," she continued, her face turning stern ... Well as stern as Millie could manage. "I want you to promise me you'll be wary of Dario."

"But why?"

Glancing around as though she were nervous someone would overhear, she sighed and crossed her arms. "Oh alright, I'll tell you why, but don't tattle to your mother; she'd have my head if she knew I was telling you about them. You must act as though nothing is different."

"Promise," Evelyn said, a bit uneasy but eager to understand what about Dario Brando riled up her friend so much. Standing, she went to the kitchen, gesturing for Millie to follow, and poured two glasses of water, offering one to her friend. "Please explain?"

Millie nodded and took a drink. "Dario, is no better than the scum living on Ogre street, and he's about twice as sly. I've seen him loot corpses at the grave yards, and swindle foreigners on everything from boarding prices to city guides. Worse than that are the rumors," she explained, voice low and eyes serious. Evelyn paled a little with every word. "They say he beat his wife to death. I'm not exactly sure how he managed to get that past Scotland Yard.. Maybe she finally killed herself because she couldn't take it." She looked morbidly thoughtful for a moment. "I doubt he would've killed her himself as he needed his work slave. I'm sure he hit her often though ..."

Her friend was quiet for a long moment. "We spoke on occasion. I .. I saw her bruises though she always tried to keep them covered, horrible splotchy purples and greens, all mottled and whatnot." Millie squeezed her eyes shut, a shiver running down her spine. "They say he beats his son too," she finished, opening her eyes again. Though she wouldn't look at Evelyn, keeping her eyes downcast. "Maybe that's why he doesn't like you. I haven't heard of him being friendly with anyone now that I'm thinking about it."

"Dario did all that- does all that?" she corrected herself.

"Yes." Millie nodded. "And that's just the stuff I know about. I have no doubt he's up to more than that."

For a long moment, Evelyn remained quiet, not sure what to think. Her head was a swirling mess of thoughts and emotions. Disbelief, because she couldn't reconcile the image of the man she had met with the one Millie had spoken of. Fear, because how had she been so close to a monster without knowing? But most of all, she felt a mixture of sorrow and anger - because how could someone do those things to their family? Family was supposed to be cherished, loved. To abuse that privilege...

In that moment, Evelyn thought that maybe Dio's behavior made more sense than it had since she had met him. Though she had grown up without her father, the green-eyed girl relied on her mother for everything in life - food, shelter, companionship, love. How would her life have been if she couldn't go to her mother for those things without being punished for it? If she couldn't trust the ones she loved most? Obviously, she wouldn't want to trust anyone, whether they were kind or not. Perhaps that was Dio's line of thought as well. It would also explain why he was so cordial with adults. If he behaved badly, he would be punished accordingly in all likelihood.

A shiver crawled down her spine at the thought.

"Are you alright?" Millie asked, moving to place a hand on her upper arm.

Not really looking up to meet her eyes, Evelyn nodded vacantly. "Yes, I'm fine ... Just seeing someone in a new light."

Millie nodded. "I know it's a lot to take in, but that's exactly why you have to watch out for him."

"I will." After all, he had no one else. Even though she knew Millie was referring to Dario, all Evelyn could think about was Dio. If what her friend said was true, he was all alone. That was unthinkable to Evelyn. This new knowledge she'd gained didn't make up for his previous attitude towards her, but she thought she might be beginning to understand why. With that understanding came a determination to be his friend. At the very least, she would try.

However, Millie had been satisfied with her answer, searching her face for only a moment longer before returning to the main room and resuming their chess game. Evelyn followed along, but her heart and head were far from that black and white board. Instead, she was too invested in figuring out how she could make Dio her friend.

Needless to say, she lost the match.

**~}(){~**

Sitting at his desk, his usual spot for _her_ visits, Dio pretended to be absorbed in his reading, turning a page every so often. In actuality, he'd already read this book, but it had been the only reading material close at hand when she arrived. And if he wasn't in the middle of reading, she would take it as an invitation to talk and then proceed to prattle on about whatever inane thing held her fancy.

The girl was acting much like she had the first few weeks of their visits - which had become a regular occurence despite his distaste. For the first few weeks, she had spoken of this and that, attempting to draw him into conversation. However, it seemed as though she'd given up for a time when her efforts were rebuffed with silence. Something had changed though two weeks previous. What it was, Dio couldn't say - though her attempts at conversing with him had returned with a vengeance , and when it was blessedly silent, he could see her studying him out of the corner of his eye.

What was she trying to do? Dio couldn't begin to guess at what she thought she could get from him, but he would make sure she didn't get it. Maybe he would address the issue. It seemed she needed to be reminded why she had given up in the first place.

Slamming his book with a resolute thud, he looked over at her impassively, his eyes even and mouth curved in a slight frown as he caught her gaze. Startled wide green eyes gawked back at him as this was the most attention he'd paid her since that first night, and he watched as her cheeks turned to a rosy hue when she realized he'd caught her staring.

When he said nothing, she cleared her throat and gave an odd little wave. "Hello, Dio," she said quietly, and her blush intensified when he arched an eyebrow at her choice of words.

"I thought we had reached some sort of agreement," he told her coldly, eyes flickering down to examine his nails as she fidgeted awkwardly, no doubt going over his words in her head.

She canted her head to the side. "I don't understand what you mean," the girl told him earnestly as her fingers began toying with the hem of her dress absently. It seemed to be a nervous tic of hers.

Predictable. Dio rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb." Crossing his legs, he stared hard into her eyes. Oddly enough, she didn't avert her gaze like he'd assumed she would by the way she kept fidgeting. She looked ... determined, something that made him more wary than before and irritated him to no end. "What do you want from me?"

More confused than before, her brow furrowed. "I don't want anything from you."

Unimpressed, his features remained impassive. She would have to try harder than that. Obviously, that wasn't true, or she wouldn't bother with pestering him all the time. After a moment, he 'tch'ed at her, turning his head away. "Everyone wants something from everyone." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Try again."

This time, she took a long moment to answer, biting her lip in thought. then she shrugged. "How about a conversation?"

Dio blanched at this. His first inclination was to accuse her of lying again. However, her sincerity gave him pause. Dio had spent most of his life learning to read people's faces. That was, in part, how he was able to deal with his father at any given moment, and as he looked at her face, he couldn't see any deception in her wide green eyes. Perhaps she was telling the truth then. But why would she care so much about speaking to him?

Then it hit him, and a smirk pulled across his face of its own volition. "What, did you think we could become friends?" he asked and knew he was right by the nervous way she swallowed and the spark of hope in her eye. His own eyes glinted in the candle light.

Folding her hands across her lap, the girl sat up a little straighter under his stare. "I had hoped," she admitted.

Dio let out a short laugh. "And what could you possibly offer me?"

"I ... I don't know," she whispered. Her black curls fell over her face as she leaned forward, so he was unable to read her expression. At this point, he didn't even need to though.

"Of course not," he answered for her, and her shoulders hunched slightly. Standing, he paced forward until he was standing directly in front of her. "That's because you have _nothing. _You _are_ nothing."

She sniffled. "That's not true," she denied, raising her head so she could meet his eyes. Though she wasn't crying yet, Dio could see the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Then what are you?" he challenged. There wasn't much of a comeback for that. As the daughter of a prostitute, she had neither social standing nor wealth. Dio couldn't be sure of the extent of her education, but she'd proven herself rather dull-witted thus far.

"I am Evelyn."

Her simple statement gave him pause, but only for a moment. Huffing, the blonde shook his head. "There's no difference then." A single tear escaped down her cheek, and Dio was about to say more when his door opened. It was the girl's mother and his father.

_'Damn.'_ This would look bad on him as the girl was crying and he was standing right over her. Back when the visits had become a regular affair, his father had ordered him to not do anything that would upset Anastasia Crew, and he was fairly certain insulting and demeaning her daughter would upset the woman. Father wouldn't like that at all. He would have to think of a convincing lie before she told on him.

"Evelyn?" the woman began, a little frantic. "What's wrong?" His father was glaring at him

Turning sharply, he bowed low to them, preparing to begin his spiel. However, it seemed that was unneccessary because the girl spoke up before he could. Wiping her tears away as quickly as she could, she explained, "We were playing, but I stubbed my toe on the bed. Dio was just making sure I was okay. Right, Dio?"

She was ... lying for him? After everything he'd said to her, he found that difficult to believe. If she thought this would indebt him to her, then she was wrong. However, he wasn't going to point that out just then. "Of course ... Evelyn." The hesitation at saying her name was easy to miss as it was barely there, but he thought she noticed the way she slumped a little - like it hurt her that he wouldn't normally call her by name. Dio repressed the urge to scoff. Foolish.

His agreement to the story seemed to satisfy her mother and his father as they both relaxed. "What a gentleman," the woman said, a small smile on her face, though her words sounded a bit unsure.

"I told you, I raised him right," his father said.

Dio's hand clenched into a fist, and he bit down on the rebuke at the tip of his tongue. That was completely false; his father had done everything _wrong_ when it came to raising him. In fact, Dio knew he'd be much better off without him in his life. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the girl stiffen at the words, and he glanced over at her suspiciously, but she averted her eyes ... She _knew_ something.

"Well, we must be off," her mother said, turning from the room. "Come along, Evelyn." The girl's mother never wanted to stay for long. Likely, she knew exactly what his father was like, and thus she always made a hasty exit.

Hopping up from her perch, the girl made her way to the door, her arm just brushing against Dio's. When she was standing in front of the two adults, she curtsied. "Thank you, Mr. Brando, for having me," she gushed as had become her tradition each week. This time, Dio noticed the words seemed ... different than they used to. He couldn't quite put his finger on it however. She almost sounded less ... Sincere? It could've been nothing, but Dio was nothing if not observant. And that combined with her odd behavior of late led him to suspect she had finally stumbled upon the rumors surrounding his family.

Did she pity him? Was that why she was suddenly paying him so much attention?

Suddenly, his father's hands landed on her shoulders, and he planted a loud, chaste kiss on top of the girl's head, like some sign of affection. It took all of the blonde's willpower to restrict his outward reaction to the raise of an eyebrow.

Soon though, the mother grabbed her daughter and all but fled the room, and his father was not far behind them. Alone then, the blonde boy moved forward to close his door with a detached air. Once the door was shut, Dio's face contorted in fury, and he lashed out, knocking his candle and pewter cup off the nightstand. Water and wax spilled across the floor. Why?! Why had his conniving, honorless, bastard of a father taken to that wretch so wholeheartedly? She had nothing, was nothing, yet his father doted on her like she was nobility.

Dio took a deep breath, calming himself. He was not prone to outbursts like that. His father brought out the worst him it seemed. Luckily, that man wouldn't be an issue forever. Dio glanced towards his mattress where he stashed his slow-growing supply of pounds. When he collected enough, he would buy a bottle of poison. Poison was such a fitting death for a snake like his father. However, sneaking money was difficult, and who knew how long it would take him to collect enough? But Dio was not one to let what he wanted slip from his grasp. Face back to the impassive countenance he usually maintained, Dio bent down and began to clean up the mess he had made.

Now that his anger had ebbed, his thoughts returned to the girl with wide green eyes. For whatever reason, his father liked her and listened to her, and that interested Dio... Perhaps he could be to his advantage. The girl wanted to be his friend too. He wondered what would happen if she was around when his father went into one of his anger fits. Would he lash out at her? Or would her presence calm him? If so, that would change things ... The thought required further deliberation.

Perhaps the girl, _Evelyn_, was of some use after all.

**~}(){~**

_To Be Continued_

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: And there it is! Things are starting to happen! And now maybe we can get a few interactions in between our leading characters with a bit more to them than .. previous. Well, maybe, it is Dio we're dealing with after all. He was the reason this took so long to get out you know. YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS WRITER'S BLOCK! BUT IT WAS ME, DIO! Ehem ... Sorry I couldn't resist._**

**_I hope you guys liked it, and thanks so much to everyone who has favorited/followed. For whatever reason, it seems way more special when it's for this story. SO THANKS GUYS! _**

**_Shout out to my reviewers: Blazingfire55, Pana-sule, Oiten, SuperYuuki, and my two anonymous reviewers! I really appreciate it all guys, and I'm so humbled that you're all enjoying it._**

**_Hope to see you all soon!_**

**_ONWARD!_**

**_-Alyssa_**


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